Snowed In
by cheesycheese
Summary: The boys get stuck at Pauls house after a sudden snow storm. Really though, you can't expect anything normal with four bored Beatles, can you?
1. Chapter 1

**...WHAT? SO I WROTE ANOTHER ONE, OK, STOP JUDGING ME! *Grumbles***

**SO anyway! This is gonna be a few chapters long, haven't decided how much though, but yeah. Review and tell me what you think. D'you like it, d'you hate it? Should it be continued? Are you sick of me and just want me to get a life? Cuz god knows I should, but meh. My boys are more fun :P**

**ENNNJOOOYYYYY**

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><p>"Paul!"<p>

"I could just over dub it later.."

"PAUL!" Paul still ignored John's yells from below, giving Brian his best puppy look. His manager still looked uncertain, with George Martin sitting impassively behind him, fiddling with the endless buttons on the panel in front of him. George knew the final decision was Brians to make, so he just chose to stay out of it.

"Eppy, its three in the morning! Everybody's knackered!" Paul pleaded. Brian sighed.

"I know that, Paul.."

"PAAAUUUUULLLLLLLLLL"

"Dammit John! I'm trying to talk here!" Paul snapped, glaring at John through the glass. John held up a crudely drawn drawing of a penis, smiling wickedly when Brian blushed and Paul had to stifle a laugh.

"I know." John said very seriously, making his drawing dance in the air. Paul rolled his eyes and turned back to Brian.

"Look, see, John's losing his mind. Can't I just come in early tomorrow and finish this up?"

"PAUL, CAN I STAY AT YOUR HOUSE TONIGHT?" John screeched, literally, spinning around in one of the office chairs he'd dragged in earlier. Brian raised an eyebrow.

Paul briefly squeezed the bridge of his nose. "See?"

Eppy sighed resignedly. "Fine. But I want you here at nine sharp, alright? Nine _sharp_. And finish it up before everyone gets here. You know we're on a _very_ tight deadline, Paul."

"Thanks Eppy!"

"EPPY YOU JEWISH CUNT!" John hollered angrily from below, throwing the now crumpled up drawing at Brian, where it harmlessly hit the glass with a thump and fell to the floor.

"He's letting us go John!"

"Oh. Thanks Eppy!" John said cheerfully, getting up to put his guitar back in its case. George Martin started shutting his system down. Paul sneezed.

Ringo and George walked back in, having chosen to go get a snack in the ten minute break they'd all been given. It'd been a gruelling day at the studio, all of them in since four in the afternoon, with non stop recording. Their label was pressuring them for another album, and evn though John and Paul had quite a lot of songs written up, they were expected to record them quicker than humanly possible.

"We can leave?" Ringo asked hopefully when he saw everybody packing up, his tired blue eyes lighting up. John nodded, yawning. Ringo immediately did a little jig.

"I think Paul worked his puppy magic." George said teasingly as Paul put away his beloved bass. Paul snorted, watching Ringo, whose little jig had gone on longer than expected.

"If anyone can work the puppy look, its you son." Paul said, gesturing to Ringo. John walked up besides him, clapping Paul on the shoulder and grinning at Ringo.

"The nose just ruins it."

"Was waiting for that." George said casually as Ringo immediately stopped dancing and pouted.

"You're mean, Johnny."

"Wouldn't want to leave you waiting."

"Get out of here, the four of you!" Brian said into the mike, George's hand hovering over the light switch, waiting for them to leave.

"YOU JEWISH CUNT!" John hollered, flipping Brian the bird.

"Oh shut it John!" Brian shot back sternly, though everyone could tell he was joking, and they all laughed basically just glad to be going home.

"Glad you finally grew a pair, Brian. God knows you love those!" John retorted, and Brian blushed again.

"Come on!" Paul said impatiently, grabbing Johns arm and dragging him away. John fell over on Paul dramatically. Paul pushed him back, laughing despite how tired he was.

"Bye Eppy! Bye George!" They all called, leaving the recording studio and making their way to the exit. They were all different when they were tired. Paul would just be tired, yawning and rubbing at his eyes and dozing whenever he could but still ploughing on. George was very unpredictable, at times being very moody, and other times very active. Ringo was just Ringo.

John, however, would get hyper. And not just 'I had a lot of sugar' hyper. It was more of 'I just polished off three cakes and a shot of adrenaline' hyper. Right now, he walked, or jumped, alongside Paul, bobbing his head around.

"So can I stay at your place?" He asked casually, randomly running his hands through Pauls hair. Paul pushed him away, finding himself laughing again despite his aching head.

"Since when do you ever need an answer to that one?"

"True, true."

"God, I'm knackered." Paul yawned, trying to smooth his hair back down again. John made a show of crashing into the door once they reached it, falling dramatically to the floor at george's feet, pretending to have passed out. Everyone laughed, and George grabbed his legs and started dragging him out. Johns eyes immediately flew open.

"'Ey, Leggo of my legs you wanker!" John yelled, struggling like crazy as George dragged him out into the chilly air. He squealed like a little girl when his shirt lifted up and the cold floor touched his bare back. George let go, laughing too hard to hold on, and John pounced on him, touching his cold hands onto his stomach. George squealed too and squirmed around, trying to throw John off but still laughing along with everyone else.

"NOT SO FUN IS IT?" John cried wickedly, cackling madly, still holding on and putting freezing hands wherever he could over a struggling and laughing George.

"Oh, leave off John." Ringo said half heartedly, still snickering. Paul was still laughing, because really, hearing_ two _of you mates squeal like little girls in one day was too much. John and George just slapped each other around until they finally stopped, laughing like maniacs.

"I'm heading home then." George said, straightening his shirt down and trying to catch his breath. "G'night lads. Crazy sod!" He added, giving John an affectionate shove. John pretended to jump him with a very loud scream.

"I think we should keep it down." Paul said cautiously, looking around. It_ was_ really late, and he suddenly felt a bit uneasy.

"Oh lighten up son, the place is deserted!" John chided.

"It's a bit late, though. Why don't you guys just crash at my place too?" Paul said after a moments pause, rubbing at his aching eyes. "John's stayin' over anyways."

"What a wonderful idea, Pauliekins!"

George and Ringo seemed to consider it. They had Pattie and Maureen to get back to, but they were all tired and it was cold, so it seemed to be a more feasible and far more tempting option to just spend the night at Pauls, whose house was literally a few minutes away.

"Alright, I guess. One night wouldn't hurt" George agreed, nodding his head. Everybody turned to Ringo.

"C'mmooonnn Rings!" John said excitedly, clapping him on the shoulder. "Slumber party!"

RIngo chuckled, then nodded. "Alright then. 'M really tired anyway."

"Yay!"

"Let's just hurry up though." Paul insisted, rubbing his arms to keep himself warm. "I think my balls are gonna fall off any minute now."

John snorted. "What balls?" He said as they all headed over to Pauls car, wanting nothing more than to just get some warm blankets and fall asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**OHAAAYYYY. I thought I'd continue this, and it's still a weird ass story but lol I like it. Hope you all like, and be sure to tell me what you think :D**

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><p>Four tired, grumpy beatles dragged themselves into Pauls house, yawning and swearing. The moment they reached the living room, they froze. Four eyes connected, and next second, they all bolted for the stairs.<p>

George tripped over an excited Martha and Ringo accidentally elbowed paul in the jaw. Both John and Ringo, screeching victoriously, made it up the stairs before the younger two could pick themselves up.

'Fucking hell..' Paul swore, rubbing his aching jaw as he stood up. He could taste blood around a stinging pain at the side of his tongue. George ran on, leaving him standing at the bottom of the stairs, Martha now circling him excitedly.

It was more or less a game they all played. The mattress in Pauls guest room was, as John had so eloquently put it, as comfortable as a bowl of nuts. It was lumpy and hard, Paul having been thoroughly swindled by the expensive store he'd had it sent in from. He hadn't had time to go exchange, let alone get another one, and everytime the rest of the band stayed over, they'd all fight for the right to sleep on Pauls bed, two of them usually sharing it, while the other unfortunate pair got the couch or the nutty mattress.

Fuming, Paul sat down on the last step and pet Martha, smiling despite himself when she nuzzled against his leg. No point in rushing, he decided, the laughter and thumps from upstairs making it clear that he should just let them fight it out. He was too tired to join in, anyways.

"I bet you'd never leave me with a nutty mattress." He said wistfully to Martha, stroking her neck as she gently licked his face, making him chuckle. It still pissed him off though, the fact that he'd saved them all the long drive to their own houses in the cold, gotten them out of the studio, promised Brian he'd come before everyone else, but he still couldn't sleep in his own fucking bed.

Stupid wankers.

Sighing again, he made his way into the kitchen to make himself some tea and give Martha her food. Let them make their own tea, he thought childishly, as he made a great show of only putting in enough water for a single mug. He put some of Martha's food in her bowl, munched on some macaroni his housekeeper had made and left out for him (God bless that wonderful woman), then ended up adding more water in the kettle after a lengthy inner battle.

When he finally made it up the stairs with four mugs of tea in a tray, George, John and Ringo had somehow managed to fit in the bed together, and were already asleep. Not sure wether to be annoyed or to laugh, Paul slammed the tray down on the nightstand as hard as he could, making them all jerk awake.

"Hurshwat?!"

"Mengh.."

"Hargahr?"

Paul laughed as they all glared at him groggily, hair mussed and tangled in the bedsheets.

"Tire yourself out, eh?" He said cheekily, more amused now than annoyed. His jaw still ached and his head still hurt, but he could never really stay angry at them for too long.

"You ran out of lube, so we had to imrovise." John mumbled, eyes closing again.

"Hope you don't mind spit." Ringo chimed in, trying to reach for the mug of tea.

"Not when it comes from your lovely mouth." Paul said, giggling when Ringo puckered his lips at him noisily. "Come on, you lot, I made tea, so up you get."

"No."

"Aw you're such a good housewife, Paulie."

"Shove up, Georgie." Paul nudged George a bit to the side so he could sit down, his legs rubbery and weak. George was already half asleep, but grudgingly sat up, passing everyone their tea. They all sat in silence while they drank, John squealing and dropping some tea on himself in surprise when Paul shoved his cold feet under him to warm them up.

"Wanker." He said sourly, all his previous energy apparently drained. There was something about a drained and tired John that made Paul feel weirdly tender, so after he was done with his tea, he rummaged through his closet and tossed John an old shirt.

"You lot need fresh clothes?"

They all mumbled in agreement and proceeded to strip without any decency, clothes littering the floor as Paul joined in once he'd gotten them all out.

"I'm not getting to sleep on my own bed, am I?" He said defeatedly as they all settled back in, hoping for some sympathy.

"Nope." John said with a winning smile. "Tuckies?"

"I'm not tucking you bastards in!"

"Please?"

"No."

"Pleeeaaassseee Paulie?"

"Don't give me that face, George, you git!"

"We want tuckies!"

Lord help me.


End file.
